Of Moses and Aaron
by Bruce Pendragon
Summary: John Cullum is three years dead, but the Tet Corporation's work is far from complete, and North Central Positronics has developed a new tactic. Now Moses Carver and Aaron Deepneau, both aging, must confront the most horrifying weapon of the Crimson King.


**A Word From the Author: Okay, first and foremost, no. Even though this is a crossover, it has NOTHING to do with the "Vanguard" story arc, lest anyone be confused.  
That said, I have to confess, I'm not quite sure why this particular idea came to mind. I tried to dismiss it, but it wouldn't go away (and we all know what happens to an author who tries to ignore a story idea that won't go away, say thankya), so I decided I'd at least write the opening scene and see how it's recieved. I'll admit, the idea of this story struck me as a bit juvenile (and that's the truth), and I may or may not ever end up coming back to it. But then, given the very nature of the Dark Tower series, almost any crossover is fair game, isn't it? Anyway, enjoy.  
By the way: if you haven't read the ENTIRE Dark Tower series, or at least up to the halfway point of the seventh book, this story will (A) contain spoilers and also (B) make no sense whatsoever. you've been warned.**

Chapter One

_September 19, 1990; 9:19 A.M._

_I'm gettin' too old for this,_ Aaron Deepneau thought as he stepped off the elevator of 2 Hamarskjold Plaza at the ninety-ninth floor, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as the ornate doors slid shut behind him. As he did this he felt an old and all-too-familiar pain streak through his chest and tried (not all that successfully) to hide a wincing grimace as the pain ran through him. From nearby, two sportcoat-wearing executives  
(_you mean bodyguards, don't you old man?)  
_Paused from their conversation and rushed to his side. "Mister Deepneau," the one on the left spoke with the air of someone whose concern stems primarily (but not entirely) from the fact that they are paid to be concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Aaron waved them off. "I'm just  
(_dying)  
_not as young as I used to be. That's all." The executives that were not really executives nodded, pretending to completely believe this. Aaron thought they looked roughly as convincing as a three and a half dollar bill, but said nothing. Instead he forced himself to regain his feet, took a deep breath, let it out, then another. This done, he looked into the face of the guard on his right. _Good God, are these guys even old enough to be carrying those guns they've got tucked away under those coats?_ "I'm here to see Mister Carver," he said matter-of-factly.

The guard nodded. "He's been expecting you, sir. Right this way." He started to lead Aaron into the office of Moses Carver, C.E.O. of the notorious Tet Corporation, but Aaron waved him off. "I know the way, son," he said, and laughed inwardly at the sound of it. Somehow, it just seemed to underline his own recent train of thoughts. _Listen to me. I even SOUND like I'm getting old._

Getting old? The truth was he'd long since gotten there, and taken up residence. Pushing eighty, and battling cancer for the better part of two decades, it was nothing short of a miracle that he was even alive to complain about it._ And if I ever need a reminder of why old men like us still do what we do, all I need to do is walk down to the Rose Plaza and take a look at that miracle, a miracle kept alive by the Tet Corporation, not to mention a few folk in another world carrying hard calibers._

And with that sobering thought, Aaron Deepneau took his leave of the two guards and made his way to the northwest corner of the ninety-ninth floor, sparing a smile and a tip of the fedora hat he had taken to favoring of late to the photo mural set into the hallway wall. "Here's to you, John," he said out loud to the picture. Three men smiled back from the picture, taken six years prior. The one in the center was Moses Carver, and the two men on either side of him were the men who had helped Carver built Tet out of Holmes Dental. One was Aaron Deepneau himself. The other (_God rest you, old friend)_ was John Cullum, now three years in the grave, killed by a hitherto unknown gunman who Aaron and Moses knew (but would never be able to prove) had been hired by one of two of Tet's corporate rivals (Sombra and North Central Positronics by name). _We had some times, the three of us,_ he reflected briefly. But no longer. Now, John had gone on, leaving only Moses and Aaron (_and what a pair of names for a pair of old men trying to save a world that seemed bent on moving on)_ to carry the banner.

As the picture slipped out of his field of vision, Aaron frowned, realizing the direction his thoughts had been taking and not liking it. On most days, and to most eyes, Tet was nothing more than an investment firm, and Aaron was nothing more than its Chief Financial Officer. What he liked to think of as "the other side of the company, (which was, he admitted, the real reason for its existence in the first place)" was usually not his concern.

Usually.

But from time to time, Moses and the late John Cullum had been known to call on Aaron for help with matters pertaining to that "other side," and Aaron had developed a kind of intuition over the years that told him when these times were close at hand. And from the amount of time and thought his brain seemed bent on taking up with thoughts of the war to protect the Rose, Aaron had a feeling that this was one of those times. He reached Moses' office and his heart sank with the final surety that he was indeed correct.

Moses Carver, normally one of the most private men Aaron had ever known (and that, Aaron knew, was saying quite a bit coming from a man who'd once palled around with Calvin Tower), has the door to his office standing wide open. His hands were folded together on his dark mahogany desk, and his eyes were aimed directly at his lap. He could have been praying (_can ya say GAWD on the ninety-ninth floor_), or napping. But Aaron had a hunch that neither was the case.

He reached the doorway, considered stepping inside, then thought better of it and rapped his wrinkled knuckles against the doorframe.

"Come on in, Aaron," Moses said without looking up.

Aaron did, and sat down in the single armchair across the desk from where Moses sat, and waited. After a few moments Moses looked up, smiling a smile that spoke more of grief than of joy. "How've y'been, old friend?"

Aaron started to give the usual response of "oh, can't complain," and thought better of it. _If I can't be honest in this room, with the man whose as close to a brother as I have left, then where, and with who?_ "Feel like shit, if you want to know the truth."

Moses nodded understandably. "I probably shouldn't ask, but-"

"But you're worried, so you're going to," Aaron interrupted. "And yes, it's the cancer. That or too many turns of the calendar. Or both." A pause. "You?"

Moses looked at a stapled together stack of papers on his desk for a moment before answering. "I've been better. That's for sure."

Aaron nodded, and they were both silent for a long time. Finally, Aaron spoke up. "Well, now that we're caught up on everything that's gone one in the, oh, say," he began counting on his fingers) "almost fourteen hours since we saw each other last, why don't we get down to what this is really about. Moses, you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"I think I have," Moses said with the weary growl that only old men are capable of, tapping a gnarled finger against the papers on his desk. "The ghost of something I thought John killed back in '84. This just came in this morning. It's an intercepted e-mail about a Defense Department contract." Having said this, he passed the papers across the desk to Aaron.

Aaron drew his reading glasses from the pocket of his ancient shirt and donned them with one hand, picking up the packet with the other. The receiving address included the name of a company Aaron had never heard of, and the subject line bore no particular meaning to him. Even so, one look at the company name was enough for him to identify it as an associate of North Central Positronics.

The company name was Cyberdyne Systems. And the subject line read "Skynet."


End file.
